  After breakfast Uncle Naboth, the Professor, and I rowed ashore and landed on the primitive wooden quay, whence we proceeded to the town—a group of mud dwellings, palm thatched, standing on a small eminence near the bay. At the left of the town were several large storehouses belonging to the government, where tithes of grain were kept. A silent but observant group of natives met us on shore and accompanied us up the path to one of the principal houses, where Van Dorn, who understood Arabic, informed us the sheik and cadi awaited our coming. After a brief delay we were ushered into a low but spacious room where the light was so dim that at first I could see nothing. Presently, however, my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom and I made out a big, whiskered Arab sitting cross-legged on a mat and surrounded by a group of friends and advisors. To my relief they spoke English; brokenly, yet sufficiently well to be understood; and the sheik in most polite phrases begged to know why we had honored his poor village by a visit. The Professor explained that our vessel was bound for India, but that some of our party had an errand at Luxor and we wished to secure a guide, an armed escort, and some good camels, to form a caravan to cross the desert and return. The ship would wait in the harbor until we had accomplished our journey. They listened to this story respectfully. We were Americans, they judged. Only Americans in Egypt were credited with doing unusual things. An Englishman or other foreigner would have taken the railway to Luxor by way of Cairo. But they had no desire to grumble at our strange whim. To keep the ship in their harbor a week longer would mean more or less patronage of the village bazar as well as harbor fees for the sheik. The caravan across the desert would mean good earnings for many worthy citizens, no doubt. But just here they seemed to scent difficulties. The Arabs talked together earnestly in their own language, and the Professor explained to us in an anxious voice that guides were scarce in Koser just then. The best, a famous Arab Bedouin, had gone west to the mines on a three weeks’ journey. Another had just departed to take a party to Kift. The third and last one available was lying ill with a fever. There was no trouble about camels; the sheik had himself several superior animals to offer, and a neighbor chief of the Bega Bedouins owned a splendid drove and could furnish any number required. But the guide was lacking, and a guide was absolutely necessary; for the desert was trackless and infested by haramyeh, or robbers. That seemed to settle the matter, to the great grief of the sheik; but the little Professor protested most vigorously that he had to go, and that a way must be found to secure for us a competent guide. Extra money would be available in the emergency, he added, and the hint set the dirty bearded Arabs conferring again. They talked in Arabic, and I heard the name of Gege-Merak The discussion resulted in a messenger being dispatched to Gege-Merak, who lived a day’s journey in the desert, to propose our offer and bring back the chief’s reply. There would be nine of our own party, and we desired an escort of six armed natives, besides the guide. The delay was inevitable, and we waited as patiently as we could for the messenger’s return. That evening we entertained the sheik and his chief men at dinner aboard the ship, and before they returned to the shore they vowed undying friendship for us all, including Nux and Bryonia. My father’s cork leg especially won their admiration and respect, and they declared he must be a very great and famous Captain in his own country to be entrusted with the command of so noble and so beautiful a ship. We told them he was. The Professor added that next to the President himself all Americans revered Captain Steele, who had won many battles fighting against his country’s enemies. I was amused at this absurd description, but it afterward served us a good turn, and perhaps preserved our lives. The next day we visited the bazar, where unimportant articles were offered for sale, and as the sheik was himself the principal owner we purchased considerable rubbish that we had no use for, just to keep the rascals good natured. On the third day, at about sunset, the messenger returned, and to our surprise he was accompanied by a train of fifteen camels—all fine, strong specimens of these desert steeds. He had brought bad news for the sheik, though. Gege-Merak had consented to guide the strangers in person, but he would supply all the camels, tents, and blankets himself, and receive all the hire for them. Moreover, the armed escort must be all from his own tribe; no dog of an Arab should have anything to do with his caravan. The sheik frowned, cursed the impudent Bega, and swore he would not allow his dear friends, the Americans, to fall into Gege-Merak’s power. Uncle Naboth and I went out and examined the escort. They were handsome, well-formed fellows, with good features and dark, bronze hued complexions. Their limbs were slender and almost delicately formed, yet promised strength and agility. I decided at once that these men looked less like robbers than the stealthy-eyed, sly-moving Arabs of the village. The Ababdeh—for the Bega warriors belonged to this caste—sat their camels stolidly and in silence, awaiting the acceptance or rejection of the offer of their chieftain. They were dressed in coarse woolen robes colored in brilliant native hues, but they wore no head covering except their luxuriant, bushy hair, which formed a perfect cloud around their faces and seemed to me nearly a foot in thickness. In their girdles were short knives and each man carried slung across his back a long, slender rifle with an elaborately engraved silver stock. My uncle agreed with me that the escort looked manly and brave. We concluded there was a way to satisfy the sheik, so we went back to him and offered to pay a liberal sum for his permission to engage Gege-Merak. He graciously consented, although he warned us that the desert Bega were not the safest people in the world to intrust with our lives and that only the fear of consequences would prevent the Ababdeh chief from murdering us and rifling our bodies. The Professor, however, had no such fears. He confided to us his opinion that we were fortunate in having no Arabs in our party. In case we chanced to encounter Abdul Hashim, the Bega would be more likely to prove faithful than would the Koser Arabs. All Arabs hate Christians in their hearts, added the Professor, and most of the desert tribes, who had existed in Egypt long before the Arabs overran the country, hated the Mussulmans as much as the latter hated the Christians. The Ababdeh tribes were natural thieves; he could not deny that; but he had reason to hope for our safe return from our adventure. For my part I pinned my faith to our stalwart escort of American sailors, thinking in my pride and ignorance that any one of them would be worth six Bega or Arabs if it came to a fight, and forgetting that the desert is a prison to those who do not know its trackless wilds. Desiring as little delay as possible we loaded the camels that evening with provisions from our ship and the light baggage, taking no more of the latter than was absolutely necessary. Bryonia, who was going with the party, insisted on carrying certain pots and pans with which to provide proper meals while en route, and these the Bega looked upon with absolute disdain. But I was glad to see our cook’s provision for our comfort, since we were to be gone eight or nine days at the least. Next morning we mounted the camels and set out. After some careful figuring we had organized our party as follows: The Professor first, of course; then Uncle Naboth, Archie Ackley, Joe, and myself. My father made some objection to three boys joining the party, but it was an adventure in which any boy would be eager to participate, and Joe begged so hard to go along and was so devoted to me personally that I argued the matter until Captain Steele gave in and consented. My father thought he could not ride a camel in comfort because of his cork leg, so he remained aboard to look after the ship. He let Ned Britton join us, though, and three sailors, all loyal fellows and splendid specimens of American manhood. This completed our party of nine. We were all armed with revolvers and repeating rifles, and felt that in case of attack or interference we could give a good account of ourselves. The weather was warm at this season, but when we started, soon after dawn, a gentle breeze was coming over the desert and we set out in good spirits in spite of the fact that the motion of the camels caused us to sway awkwardly in our tall saddles. We should get used to this motion in time, the Professor assured us; but at first it jolted us terribly. It seemed as if the entire population of the village had assembled to see us start, and from their looks they evidently considered us little less than madmen. The sheik wished us a safe journey and promised in the hearing of the Bega to avenge us in case we met with treachery; but at the same time, he told the Professor privately, he refused to guarantee our savage escort in any particular. Bidding my father and the crew of the Seagull a cheery farewell, we left Koser and began our journey across the desert. The Ababdeh were silent fellows, but when I questioned them I found that at least two of their number understood and spoke English fairly well. They did not waste words in expressing themselves, but seemed intelligent and respectful in their demeanor toward us. Our progress the first day was slow, for the way was across heavy sands that tired the camels to walk upon. We made a halt for luncheon and at about sundown reached the encampment of the Bega chief, Gege-Merak. It was situated on a tiny oasis of the desert, which boasted a well of good water and a group of a dozen tall spreading date-palms. Under the palms were set the chief houses of the village, made of mud and thatched with palm leaves; but the huts of the people extended also out upon the desert, on all sides of the oasis. These mainly consisted of low walls of mud roofed with squares of canvas, and none save the house of the chieftain was high enough for a man to stand upright within it. The village in the oasis. I was surprised at the number of this isolated tribe of Bega, and it was a wonder to me how they all managed to subsist. They had many goats and camels and a small herd of buffalo-cows—too many, seemingly, to crop the scant herbage of the oasis; but there was no attempt at agriculture that I could discover. We halted before the house of the chief, and after conferring together our escort conducted my uncle, the Professor, and myself into the building. We found ourselves in a large, cool room, lighted and aired by open spaces between the top of the walls and the roof. At the rear was a dark passage, doubtless leading into other apartments, but the appearance of the interior was extremely primitive and unattractive. Upon a rush mat at one side of the room sat a young girl, her slender form graceful and upright, her dark eyes fixed curiously upon us. She seemed about fifteen years of age, but may have been two or three years younger, for the women of these desert gypsies mature early in life. Her hair, unlike that of the other Bega we had seen, was not bushy and cloudlike, but its luxuriant tresses were heavily plaited into several braids, two hanging in front over either shoulder and two others dropping behind her back. On her arms or ankles were broad bands or bracelets of silver, some of them set with odd stones of strange colors and shapes. Golden bangles—perhaps Persian or Arabian coins—were strung together on wires and woven into the braids of her hair. She wore a robe of some thin, strong material which was striped in alternate bands of scarlet and green—a robe more becoming than its description sounds, I think—and across her rounded shoulders was folded a Syrian scarf covered with rich embroidery. The girl was undeniably handsome. She would have been conspicuous by reason of her beauty in any civilized community. Here, surrounded by a barbaric desert tribe, she seemed a veritable daughter of Venus. I could not stare long at this gracious sight, for beside the girl sat, or rather squatted, a personage whose powerful individuality compelled attention. Gege-Merak—for I did not doubt I beheld the chief—was a withered, wrinkled old man scarce five feet in height when standing upright, a veritable dwarf among his handsome, well formed subjects. One eye—the right one—was gone, and across the sightless cavity and reaching from his cheek to his forehead, was a broad, livid scar as from the slash of a knife or a sword-cut. The other eye, small and glittering, regarded us with a glare as disconcerting as that of a snake, it being set in his face deep amid the folds of wrinkled flesh. His chin protruded and his thin lips were closed together in a straight line, while his bushy hair was snow-white in color, denoting great age. I own I was amazed to find the famous chief so different from his people; and when I realized that we had voluntarily put our lives into the keeping of this old, evil-featured Bega, I began to suspect there was a foundation for the Arab sheik’s persistent croak of danger. Still, as Gege-Merak sat huddled upon his mat, motionless save for that roving, terrible eye, it occurred to me that he was too old and feeble to lead the caravan himself, as he had sent word to us that he would do, and without doubt would delegate the task to some other. At our entrance the warriors knelt to their chief and crouched subserviently their foreheads to the mat; but afterward they stood erect in a group at one side. They neither saluted nor appeared to notice the girl at all. “So,” said Gege-Merak, in a quiet voice and speaking excellent English. “Here are the travelers who wish to be led to Luxor. What is your errand there?” He looked from one to another of us, and I took upon myself to answer him, as the Professor seemed to hesitate. “Sir, that is our business alone,” I declared, stiffly. “All that we require from you is your camels, your warriors to guard us, and a guide.” “I am rebuked, Effendi,” said he, fixing his small eye upon me with a penetrating gaze, but exhibiting no humility in his tones. After a slight pause: “Do you agree to my price in return for the service you require?” “Yes; you are to receive one hundred English pounds.” “In advance,” he added, softly. “One-half in advance,” said I. “The remainder when we have returned in safety.” “Let me see the money.” I produced a bag containing fifty gold pounds, and stooping down counted them out upon the mat before him. He watched me silently. “Now I will see the other fifty,” he said. I began to dislike the chief; but now the Professor said, somewhat to my surprise. “Pay him the full amount, Mr. Steele; it will be better that way.” “Why?” I asked, turning to him rather angrily. “Because the great chief is suspicious of our honesty, and we want him to believe we are honest. Also because Gege-Merak’s word is sacred, and he will be faithful when he is paid. For a third reason, it will be just as well for you not to carry that gold across the desert and back again, when the chief is able to put it away in a safe place before we begin the journey.” Gege-Merak listened carefully and it was evident he approved this argument. But he said nothing and merely looked at me inquiringly. Of course, if the natives would prove faithful, the Professor’s plan of advance payment was best. After a look toward Uncle Naboth, which he answered with a nod, I drew out another fifty pounds and counted it upon the mat beside the first. “Now, Gege-Merak,” said I, “you are paid in full.” |
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